Marvel Knights of Middle Earth
by Darknight Squire
Summary: Spider man,Wolverine, and Nightcrawler are mysteriously transported to Middle Earth where, after helping to rescue the hobbits on Weathertop, they end up becoming part of the Fellowship of the Ring!
1. Chapter 1

Spider-Man, Nightcrawler, Wolverine, and all related characters belong to Marvel Comics and Twentieth Century Fox. _The Lord of the Rings _and all related characters belong to the family and estates of J. R. R. Tolkien and a whole bunch of other people who have way more money than me. If any of you guys are reading this please don't sue, because you are stinking rich; I've got zilch, and I'm not making anything off of the use of these characters-I say what I truly think and I may get banned from the Internet.

Chapter one.

Spider-Man groaned as he sat up and looked around. _Where am I? _he wondered. The last thing he remembered, he had been fighting with Carnage, when that symbiont-covered serial killer unleashed one of his symbiont-blades that cut his web line. The webslinger had tried to fire another another but the web-cartridges in both shooters had run dry. He remembered falling, hitting the ground, and then-.

_And now I'm here. _He was in the middle of a strange forest that seemed to be unmanaged. And by the looks of it, either the son was about to set or it was very foggy. _Toto, we are definitely not in Kansas anymore._

"Thought I smelled something familiar." Spider-Man turned and right behind him were the two X-men Nightcrawler and Wolverine. "How'd you end up here?"

"I have no clue, last thing I knew I had a bout with Kassidy and he cut my web line and I fell down; when I woke up I was here." He shrugged. "Wherever here is."

"That I can't tell you," answered the Canadian mutant. "Me, pointy-ears, and the other X-Men were upstate fighting the Juggernaut-he'd broken out of his holding facility again. He'd grabbed me and threw me over a cliff, Nightcrawler teleported after me. After he grabbed on to me, we ported out-and here we are."

"It vooks alvmost like ze Black Forest in Germany;" said Nightcrawler. "Although-Vy don't vink vit's quite zo-"

Before he could finish Spider-Man stiffened. "I know that look," said Wolverine, "that sixth sense of your is telling you there's danger nearby."

"Yeah," said Spider-Man, "but not to us. Someone else nearby is in trouble." He didn't explain how he knew; heck he didn't fully understand his spider-sense himself. He turned his head, and pointed where the feeling felt the strongest. "From over there."

Logan peered where Spider-Man was pointing. "Looks like the ruins of some old abandoned castle." Then all three of them heard cries coming from the said ruins. "And it sound like they are in trouble." Wolverine looked at Nightcrawler. "Can you teleport us over there?" The demonic-looking German nodded and held out his hands. Wolverine and Spider, who quickly made sure he had a fresh web cartridges in each of his shooters, each took a hand and suddenly BAMF! Disappeared from where they were standing.

* * *

Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Merry Brandybuck and Pippin Took were scrambling for cover. They had been arguing about the fire the latter three had set up while Frodo was asleep, when all of a sudden, the nine Ringwraiths that had followed them earlier appeared. Samwise grabbed his frying pan, Merry and Pippin took out the short swords their guide Strider had given them, and tried to fight them off. But the wraiths weren't after them; they wanted Frodo the Ring Bearer.

BAMF! Three new strangers suddenly materialized in their midst. Immediately the one wearing red and blue began attacking Ringwraiths, shooting strands of some strange spiderweb-like substance at two of them, pinning their cloaks to the nearby wall. "Hey, you rejects from Elvira's entourage, nine against one is kind of unfair. Maybe seven will help even the odds a little."

Wolverine unleashed his claws and Nightcrawler picked up the sword of one of those ghouls. Unlike Spider-Man, they couldn't sense danger emanating from the Ringwraiths but seeing nine powerful looking creatures armed with swords attacking four small child-like people who were barely armed told them who they should be helping.

Nightcrawler teleported front of the wraith Sam. The blade he carried wasn't the type he was used to fighting with but it would have to do. He slashed and parried, but although he was sure he managed to get several stabs in there seemed to be no body inside the chain mail and cloak-it was as if the clothes themselves were alive.

Two steps away, Wolverine was faring little better. He sliced at the armored chest with his right hand while his left held the wraith's sword. The thing seemed nearly was strong as Sasquatch and although he ripped the front of the mail-shirt off there seemed to be nothing inside.

Of the three Spider-Man was faring the best. He webbed two more wraiths straight to the floor, then leaped over the slash of a third. "What's the matter Lord Vader, got no sense of humor?"

Frodo had no idea who these strangers were, but he was glad. They had distracted the wraiths from him, and if he could just get away-quickly he took the Ring from the chain around his neck, place it on his finger, and disappeared.

That was a mistake.

The ring did not make him invisible to the wraiths. Rather, it drew them to him. Frodo looked up and he could see them with out their cloaks; them seemed as thin, wispy shadows of men. The one closest to him held up his sword-

And suddenly a clawed hand parried the blade. "I don't know what you're after these little guys for," said Wolverine, "but I aint letting anyone unarmed and helpless get cut to pieces on my watch." He brought his other hand down on arm holding th sword, severing the sleeve from the rest of the wraith coat.

But the wraith shot out it's left hand and stabbed a long, slender blade into Wolverine's side.

The short, scrappy man staggered back three feet. Never in his life had he felt such pain, such agony-his entire right side felt as if it was on burning and freezing simultaneously.

Out of nowhere, a man carrying a sword in one hand and a torch in the other jumped behind the wraith. He thrust the torch at the wraith, setting it on fire. The wraith screamed and ran off.

"The fire!" the newcomer said. "They fear the fire!"

"Why didn't someone say so earlier?" said Spider-Man. He shot his weblines at two more wraiths and pulled them into the small campfire. These wraiths screamed and ran off like the other, and th remaining two followed after them.

The stranger looked over at the three. "I don't know who you are, but I thank you for your aid." Now he got a closer look-at Spider-man and Wolverine's masked faces, Nightcrawler's demonic countenance, and the claws from Wolverine's hands. "WHAT are you?"

"Just your friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man," said the mask webslinger. "Although this neighborhood doesn't seem so friendly."

"I'm Kurt Wagner," answered Nightcrawler, "and this is my friend Logan."

"I am called Strider," the man said then looked around. He saw where Spider-Man had webbed the Ringwraiths. "How did you-?"

"Like I said, I'm Spider-Man, I can spin webs." Now Spidey knelt at one of the webbed wraiths-there was only a cloak and mail suit inside the webbing. "What gives?" Seeing Strider's puzzled look he added, "Why are they nothing but armor and cloaks now?"

"These wraiths are spirits, they can only walk in this world when they are garbed so," answered Strider. "When you trapped them, they escaped to go back to their master Sauron."

"Sauron?" asked Spider-Man. "Who's Sauron?"

"You mean you never heard of-" Strider looked at Logan who was clutching his side . Strider looked at the wound. "Never mind that for now. Your friend has been stabbed. He needs medicine."

"I'll be fine. Just give me some time-AAGGHH!"

"He's been stabbed with a Morgul blade; if the poison spreads throughout the body he will become a wraith like those nine. We need to get him to Rivendell where he can be treated and quickly."

He looked at Sam Gamgee. "Do you know of the herb called King's Foot?" Sam nodded, as a gardener he was knowledgeable about plants and herb lore. "Gather some as soon as you see any. It'll slow down the poison."

Strider now turned to Nightcrawler and Spider-Man who had each taken one of their friend's arms over their shoulders. "Follow us. But quickly, we haven't much time."

* * *

Logan went in and out of spells of dizziness for the next four days as Spider-Man and Nightcrawler helped him follow Strider and the four little men. The three newcomers learned the little foursome were called 'hobbits,' and their names were Frodo Baggins, Sam Gamgee, Merry Brandybuck, and Pippin Took.

"And what exactly are you three?" asked Pippin, the youngest of the three. "Two of you seem like human men, but men don't have long claws or spin webs, and I've never seen anyone like your friend Kurt here!"

"Logan and I are-," Kurt paused, unsure of what to say, "mutants."

"What're mutants?" joined in Merry, he and Pippin seemed very curious while Frodo and Sam were more serious.

"We're humans, but we're-different."

"Human?" Merry's eyebrow arched up. "You don't look like any kind a of human I've ever seen."

Kurt sighed. At least they didn't act frightened, the way most people did.

"Something happened to their genetic makeup before they were born, that gives them their-abilities," put in Spider-Man. He hadn't said much while he was helping Nightcrawler with Logan; mostly he was thinking about home, and Mary Jane and Aunt May. Somehow, he knew they had been transferred into a different dimension and that they were a very, very, long way from home.

Merry and Pippin both looked puzzled at the words 'genetic makeup,' but went on with their questions. "And what about you?" asked Merry. "Are you a 'mutant' too?"

"Yes," asked Pippin. "And why do you wear that mask? Are you all hideous and disgusting underneath it?"

Now Spider-Man felt his face turn red under his mask. "No, I'm not a mutant, that is I wasn't born like this. I got bit by a-" now he felt the word 'radioactive' wouldn't register here; "-'magic' spider and it gave me spider like abilities. As for the mask-I go out in secret to catch thieves and robbers. I made a lot of enemies doing so, and I don't want them to hurt my loved ones, so I wear this mask to protect them."

"Oh." Merry and Pippin shrugged.

Logan had stirred out of his dizziness spell. "Listen, Pete," he said-Kurt started a little at the name, since he didn't know Spider-Man's identity, "I don't think it'll do you any harm if you take off that mask. If I'm right we're in some other dimension; and I doubt anyone who sees you will be able to threaten your family."

Spider Man carefully hesitated, the pulled of his mask. "And just so you know, my name is Peter Parker," he said carefully. He wasn't comfortable with the idea of telling his secret to strangers, but Logan was right. It _was _unlikely there would be any immediate threats to his wife or aunt from these people, and he felt he needed for them to trust him. "Now I'd like to ask you a question," asked Spider-Man. "Why are you five headed towards this place called 'Rivendell,' and why were those things after you?"

"I can answer that," said Strider. He turned around wand walked back to the three newcomers. "They are after this." He pointed to the ring Frodo was wearing around his neck.

Peter peered down at the ring, it looked like an ordinary gold band-suddenly he felt his spider-sense go off like like a fire alarm. "All right I believe you."

Kurt looked at Spider-Man, it looked just like an ordinary ring to him. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes I'm positive." Spider-Man looked at Strider. "You can tell us more when we get to this place and our friend is better."

Strider nodded. He was amazed that Logan was still able to walk even with the help of his friends; most men he saw stabbed with a Morgul knife would already be dead or wraiths without treatment by now.

They had reached the edge of the forest when they saw two people on horseback come up. The first was a tall young man who looked a little older than Peter with long blonde hair like Thor's. The second was a woman of such exquisite beauty that Kurt and Peter both stared wide in amazement. She was tall and stately; her skin was like fine porcelain with a delicate pointed chin and slanted almond eyes that looked Asian but were gray, and thick mane of black hair cascaded down her back. The man had similar features but his forehead was wider, giving his face an almost triangular look. And both had pointed ears almost like Kurt's sticking out of their hair.

The woman looked at the three strangers, then at Strider. She spoke to him in a strange language, which he answered back in. She pointed back to the three, and he stood aback and held out his hand.

"These are," he said in the common tongue, "Peter, Kurt, and Logan. They appeared at Weathertop when we were attacked by the Nazgul; they helped us drive them off. But Logan has been stabbed with a Morgul blade, he needs medicine quickly."

"There is no time," said the woman. "The nine have been spotted; they are freshly mounted and gaining on you even as we speak. I must take Frodo here to Rivendell."

"No!" shouted Frodo. "I will not leave my friends in danger!"

The woman looked down at the hobbit. "Did it not occur, little one, that it is because of you that your friends are dangers."

Frodo winced, but then said, "I won't leave Logan here; if it weren't for him I might have been stabbed instead."

Logan took his arms off of Kurt and Peter's shoulders and stepped forward. "I'm well enough," he said through gritted teeth. "I can ride one of those things, let me follow you to this Rivendell place on one."

"Very well. Glorfindal," the woman said to her companion, "give him your horse, I'll take Frodo." The young man nodded and stepped off of his mount.

Logan suppressed a groan as he took the reigns and climbed onto the horse's back. Seeing Frodo get into the saddle in front of the pointy-eared woman he nodded to her. "Lead the way."

She took off in a gallop and Logan followed her. It had been years, decades really, since he had last ridden a horse and with each fall of the hoof the pain at his side seemed to double. This horse, however, seemed more responsive than the usual breed and acted at the slightest touch of heel or pull at the bridle.

They had galloped for several miles when Logan heard hoof beats behind him. He looked back and he saw five of the nine shadowy wraiths he'd fought earlier coming after them on huge black chargers. He grit his teeth, ignoring the growing pain, and spurred his horse harder.

He and the woman had just crossed a shallow stream when the woman stopped her horse and turned. She pulled out a long, curved looking sword and held it high above her head. She slowly chanted in that strange language she spoke with Strider earlier.

"Lady!" Logan cried out; he'd stopped his own horse and trotted up to her. The wraiths were coming, getting closer and closer. "Lady, you can't fight those things all by yourself!"

The woman simply ignored him but kept speaking,as the wraiths came closer and closer, until the reached the middle of the stream-.

And a great wave came crashing down, sweeping the wraiths and their horses away.

Logan just stood there, his jaw wide open. He'd seen many strange things in his long life but this-_Maybe that Moses guy did the same thing when he parted the Red Sea,_ he thought, recalling his childhood when he actually believed.

"Come," the woman said."We have to get to Rivendell quickly." She spurred her horse and Logan followed after her.

They had just come to the edges of wide valley filled with trees when Logan felt the pain return-he had completely forgotten it when the wave swept away the wraiths-and his eyes grew blurry. The reins fell from his hands and with a final groan he fell from the saddle.

* * *

Daylight crept through Logan's eyelids and slowly he opened them. At first he thought he was back in his room at the Xavier Institute, but then saw everything had a strange ethereal look to it. And sitting right beside the bed was Kurt, dressed in what looked like some Renaissance fair garb, holding a rosary and murmuring something in Latin.

"You're awake." Kurt jumped from his chair and walked out to the door. "Everyone! He's awake!"

Peter, who was dressed in a blue and red variety of Kurt's clothes, Strider, the hobbits, that one mysterious lady, a man who looked somewhat like her but looked a little older, and a very old looking man dressed in gray robes came in. Logan thought the last looked something like Magneto without a shave or haircut for a long time but his eyes shined with a merry kindness the X-Men's old enemy lacked.

"I was wondering when you would wake up," the man with the pointed ears said. "I am Elrond Half Elven, and you and your friends are my guests." He indicated the others. "You already know Strider, you've met my daughter Arwen, and this," he said indicated to the graybeard, "is Gandalf the Gray."

"You fell off your horse and were unconscious," the girl-Arwen-said. "We brought you to this house and to this bed but by the time we came with your medicine, you were completely healed."

"Really?" Logan smiled. His healing factor could handle a lot but he'd never felt anything quite as bad as that Morgul blade.

"Indeed," added Gandalf. "Even the strongest usually succumb if they are not treated quickly, but somehow, you seem to have recovered fully."

"I'm a quick healer," Logan simply shrugged.

"Maybe. But nonetheless there is much we have to discuss. We shall have a meeting within seven days, when I will tell you all everything.

End of prologue.

Okay, how was that? Tell me what you think, because if I don't get any reviews I won't continue with this story.

When I thought this up I imagined Logan's healing factor would be able to fight off the effects of a Morgul blade but it would give him a real fight. And his being able to ride a horse-well, when you consider how long he's lived and that he spent most of his early life on the Canadian frontier, it's not that unlikely. And there's another one of our trio from the Marvel Universe who can handel a horse pretty well too because of his background guess which one.

And finally, do you think Peter's going to find what he needs to make more web fluid in Rivendell? Because he's gonna need it!


	2. Chapter 2

\Spider-Man, Wolverine, Nightcrawler and all related characters are the property of Marvel Comics. _The Lord of the Rings _and all related characters belong to the family and estate of J. R. R. Tolkien. If any of you are reading this, you've already got millions, I've got zilch, so suing me would only be a waste of your money and the American taxpayers'.

I'm sorry for taking so long to update. Because of that I decided to make this chapter extra-long. You readers who sent such wonderful reviews deserve that much.

.

CHAPTER TWO

Web swinging through a forest wasn't quite the same as in New York City but it was the best that Peter Parker could do for now; the buildings in Rivendell just weren't tall enough and spaced too far apart for him to do it properly.

His costume had gotten worn during his walk to Rivendell; what he now wore reminded him of some of those costumes he'd seen the time Mary Jane had talked him into going to a Renaissance Fair. Peter was currently dressed in a blue tunic and trousers and red vest the elf seamstresses in Rivendell had made for him. He was amazed at how light and comfortable the fabric was, yet how strong. Peter was also wearing a pair of reddish moccasin-boots that were thin enough to enable him to stick to surfaces yet surprisingly durable. The elves, it seemed, took great care in their crafts.

Peter still wore his gloves and his Spider-Man mask; swinging just didn't feel right without it.

He swing up onto a rather large branch crouched down, thinking, _Okay, I've been mysteriously transported to this strange dimension along with two of the X-men, rescued from certain doom four little guys, one of whom has a Cracker Jack prize that makes my spider sense go off like a fire alarm, and now I'm staying with a bunch of elves and not the kind who work for Santa or Ernie Keeblar. _Peter sighed. Back home, no doubt his Aunt May and Mary Jane were worried sick. _I wonder if M. J's gone to see Dr. Strange._

He had found an apothecary in Rivendell who coincidentally carried the very same enzymes he used for his web-fluid. After explaining why he used them, the apothecary contacted several weapon-smiths. They were all fascinated by the web shooters; the gold and silver they offered for the devices would have kept him and Mary Jane set for life back in New York.

"A highly unusual way of getting around, yet no doubt rather useful." Startled, Peter and saw Gandalf, the gray robed wizard he'd met four days earlier standing right behind him.

"H-how, did you get up here?"

"I have my ways," replied Gandalf as he sat down next to Peter.

"Oh."Peter was reminded of when his Aunt May told him how she learned his secret-he had just arrived in his room one night all battered and bloody. He pulled off his costume and lay it down on the floor. His aunt had walked in to check up on him while he was asleep, and saw the torn, blood-covered outfit...

The memory made him think of her and his wife again. "You seem troubled," remarked Gandalf.

"It's just-I have a wife and an aunt back home." Peter took off his mask; talking about his personal life as Peter Parker was a lot easier when he wasn't wearing it. "They're my only family and I worry about them."

"Ah." Gandalf nodded in sympathy. "You care greatly about them, don't you?"

"Yeah. Aunt May-she and my uncle Ben raised me since my parents died when I was a toddler; and after Uncle Ben passed away her health has taken a down turn. And Mary Jane's the best thing that ever happened to me. She's stuck by me and been my closest confidante-despite the troubles my life brings."

"I wish I could easily return you and your friends home, Peter," said Gandalf. "I will do what I can. But travel between dimensions is a very dangerous and chancy thing, especially if you do not know how you arrived here to begin with. Many wizards, some far wiser and more powerful than I, have destroyed themselves and caused great harm in the attempt."

Peter sulked. More to himself than to Gandalf he muttered, "I wouldn't be surprised if Dormmamu has something do with this."

Alarm filled Gandalf's face. "Dormmamu?" he said. "You know of Dormmamu?"

"Yes," replied Peter. "There's this wizard on our own world, Dr. Stephen Strange, who's dealt with him. I've sometimes gotten caught in the crossfire of their spats."

Gandalf shuddered. "Dormmamu arrived in Middle Earth shortly after Sauron was defeated. The carnage and destruction he'd wrought nearly rivaled that of the Dark Lord of Mordor; it took the combined might of me, Saurumon, and Radagast to finally seal him away."

"Oh." Now Peter thought of something. "This "Sauron' guy you talk about-he has something to do with that ring around Frodo's neck, doesn't he?"

Gandalf nodded. "That is his ring-a Ring of Power he made to rule over all other such rings. Those Nazgul Wraiths you and your friends rescued the hobbits from-they were once great kings of men, before Sauron gave them nine rings of power. Blinded by greed, they accepted-and became his slaves."

"Whenever I look at that thing, it makes my spider sense flare up. I can't even stand to look more than a few seconds; it's like the Bells of Notre Dame going of inside my head."

Gandalf frowned at the analogy but caught the gist of it. "This-spider sense-of your's. I've heard you speak of it before. Exactly what is it?"

When Peter explained how, whenever danger came near him he'd fell a buzzing in his head-the greater the danger the worse the buzzing was.

As Gandalf listened his face became very somber. "If only Isildur had such an ability. It would have saved us all a great deal of grief."

"Isildur? Who's he?"

"You will find out three days from now at the meeting. For the present, we are safe from Sauron and his minions. The only danger, it seems, is from Elladan and Elrohir, who just returned home this morning."

"Who are they?"

"Elrond's sons. Otherwise known as the Twin Terrors of Rivendell."

* * *

Logan sat back in the guest lounge of Elrond's house, puffing on clay pipe. What he was smoking right now wasn't tobacco but something the hobbits called 'longbottom leaf.' It wasn't quite the same-it had a spicier flavor and a rather lighter scent, yet Logan found he rather liked it.

Across the room Kurt was sitting with Merry, Pippin, and Frodo's uncle Bilbo Baggins. The old hobbit had been regaling the blue skinned mutant with tales of adventures he'd had when he was young-and Kurt was telling them of his own life with the X-men. Logan was glad Kurt enjoyed story telling; it kept those little guys happy and from pestering him too much.

"And there really are many such people as you in this world of your's, who have powers that don't come from sorcery?" asked Bilbo. He was copying notes onto parchment, to write down in his book later on.

"Yes," answered Kurt. The hobbits who were listening to him were smoking the same stuff as as Logan. This 'longbottom leaf smelled a little better than tobacco at least. Hopefully it wasn't as dangerous and secondhand smoke from it wouldn't harm him. "Many such as Logan and myself get them from a certain 'X-gene,' that we are born with; ve are called mutants. Others are like Peter; they vere born as normal humans but vere given powers by some outside force. They are called 'mutates.'

"Many are widely admired and held in high regard." Now Kurt sighed. "Unfortunately, others, especially mutants, are often looked at vith fear and suspicion. And there are those who have given humans good reason to be suspicious, such as one called Magneto."

Logan reached for a glass next to his chair, drank, and sighed. The elves of Rivendell didn't drink beer; like Greeks or Italians back home they preferred wine. It was very good wine-Logan didn't think there was any on his own world that could match it-but he longed for a cold bottle of Moosehead.

Logan tapped out his pipe and filled it up again. He wished for a nice convenient cigar; a pipe was just too time consuming for his liking.

He lit his match-he was amazed that this medieval-type world had strike-anywhere matches-and set it to the pipe's bowel....

Boom! The small explosion from the pipe bowel so startled Logan that he fell back in his chair to the floor. Kurt and the others saw him get up from the floor, his hair disheveled and his face covered with soot.

Merry, Pippin and Sam started to laugh. Kurt, Bilbo and Frodo didn't. Kurt knew Logan too well, and both Bagginses got the impression he didn't have much of a sense of humor.

The others' laughter died as Logan glared at them and unleashed his claws. Logan gazed particularly at Merry and Pippin; he got the idea that those two were troublemakers.

"Logan please," Kurt stepped forward. "I don't think it was these two that did it; if they had would they still be here when the joke went off?" Logan frowned then grunted; the German elf made too much sense.

"I'm gonna find out who did, then," he said, and walked out the room.

Pippin breathed a sigh of relief. "For a minute there I thought he was going to cut me to little pieces with those claws. I feel sorry for whoever did that to the pipeweed-if Logan ever finds out who it is."

"It shouldn't be so bad," said Kurt reassuringly. "Logan can be scary but his bark is worse than his bite-unless you really are his enemy, that is."

Bilbo Bagginses eyebrows furrowed; he already figured who had messed with the 'weed. And he hoped for their own sakes Logan never caught them.

* * *

"Shoot," muttered Elladan, he and his twin brother Elrohir were half a mile away, at the doorway of the Last Homely House where they lived when they weren't traveling in search of adventure. "I was hoping to get that blue one, or maybe one of the young hobbits." They could see Logan with the soot on his face quite well despite the distance-the elves of Middle-Earth had miraculous eyesight.

"From what everyone says, he strikes me as someone I do not wish to tangle with." While Elrohir enjoyed pranks as much as his brother he usually more cautious.

"Then we better not be around when he comes by this building," said Elladan,smiling at his twin.

The elven twins walked to where their rooms sat just across from each other. "So," smiled Elladan,

"which one do you think we should target next? The blue one or that other they told us about-the one they say is like a spider?"

"I don't know," said Elrohir. "How do you think Father will punish us this time?" While Elrond was a kindly father he was also a stern one, and had little patience with his sons' antics. "Last time he made us clean all the stables for two years-and before that, we had to clean all the diapers for the infants born in Rivendell that year!"*

"Perhaps we should try something really outrageous then-something that will put us on kitchen duty for perhaps a decade." answered Elladan, and the two entered Elladan's room, to begin thinking up the upcoming mischief.**

Elladan sat down on his bed grinning as his mind began churning with ideas. He was glad to be home; it had been so long since they had set out on that journey to rescue their mother. Now she was gone, having sailed to the Gray Havens in the West, and Elladan had no idea if he would ever see her again.

He tried to shift a little, then stopped. "What's the matter?" asked Elrohir.

"I'm stuck." Elrohir walked to the bed and placed his own hand on the top blanket as he tried to pull his brother off-and was stuck himself. "What's happened!"

The two brothers tried desperately to to get themselves out of the blanket but but instead found themselves rolled up opposite each other. "I couldn't have asked for it better myself," laughed an unfamiliar voice from a window neither of them could see. Next they were yanked of the bed through the window, and found themselves hanging from the branch of a tree, still wrapped up in the blanket.

Grinning at them was a young man who looked human-except no human they knew could cling to the outside of a building like this man was to the Last Homely House.

"Gandalf warned me about you two," the stranger said, "so I decided to pull what where I'm from is called a 'preemptive strike.'"

Peter Parker held his hand to his mouth. "Hey everyone! I've got the 'Twin Terrors of Rivendell,' right here! Come one, come all!"

Everywhere around them, elves flocked around the Last Homely House-and burst into laughter. Several, victims of the twins' previous pranks, ran off to find garbage or rotten fruit to throw at them.

Elrond and Arwen were among the crowd. Arwen laughed with the others; while she dearly loved her two older brothers she had been their favorite target when they were children and she always thought their father's punishments were too light. Seeing them humiliated like this-it was just so rich!

Elrond gave a small smile, the most emotion he ever showed. Although he hid it well-very well-he was always amused by the pranks his sons pulled. Lately however he felt they were getting too old

for such mischief-their 4,000th birthday would be coming soon. Maybe, just maybe, a public humiliation would make them grow up.

Or maybe they'd just try really hard to pay Peter back. Knowing Elladan and Elrohir as only a father could, Elrond thought the latter far more likely. From what Peter had told him and had demonstrated of that strange 'spider sense' of his though, they wouldn't have an easy time.

Peter smirked down at the twin elves. "I've covered the blanket with a thin coat of my webbing; it will dissolve within fifteen minutes. The strand holding you to the tree will last a little longer."

A rotten cabbage just barely missed hitting Elrohir's head. "Did he just say fifteen minutes?"

"I believe so," answered Elladan. The older twin had to admit, this was good. But there was no way he could let something like this go unanswered; he and his brother had a reputation to uphold. "Why do you ask?"

"Before we 'improved' the hobbits' pipeweed, well, I had a couple of cups of wine and..."

"HOLD IT!" cried Elladan-and a piece of moldy radish landed straight in his mouth.

* * *

For the next three days, the twins tried every trick they knew, and some others they'd just thought of, to try and publicly humiliate Peter. Yet somehow, nothing worked. He had ducked as soon as he opened the door to the cabinet that had a spring-loaded cream pie set to fly out. He stopped just as he was about to open the door and spotted the bucket filled with their sister's finest perfume. He had managed to set aside the goblet filled with wine that would have given him diarrhea and got a different glass. He even woke up before they managed to creep into his room to paint his face.

It was almost like Peter could somehow sense what they were about to do before they did it. For Elladan and Elrohir, it was infuriating.

"I've got to say, you got 'em good, Pete," said Logan a full week after they arrived in Rivendell. The three of them were sitting in a room where Elrond granted for them to eat alone. The could have joined the rest of the household in the Fire Hall, and they did at noon and evening meals. But for breakfast the three preferred to be alone together to discuss their situation. Logan himself had laughed at what Peter did; he decided then to give up any idea for retribution.

Peter spooned another bite of the silken wheat porridge that seemed a little like Cream of Wheat but was much nicer. "Yep. And because they've been so focused on trying to get me, they haven't been able to get anyone else. If only I could have gotten away doing this to Flash Thompson back in high school!"

Then Peter looked melancholy. Kurt and Logan both realized that thinking of home reminded Peter of his wife and his aunt. They'd both had an easier time accepting their situation than he did, mainly because neither of them had as close attachments as he did. Oh they had close friends that they would miss, but it wasn't really the same.

"_Meine freund_," Kurt said, placing a three fingered hand on Peter's, "I know, it is hard."

Peter was touched by Kurt's friendly gesture; up till now the only one of the X-Men he'd known personally was Logan, and their relationship wasn't exactly cordial. "Thanks," he replied. "Hopefully, Gandalf and Elrond will find the means to get us back."

"I'm afraid it won't be that simple, Peter." The three looked and saw Gandalf enter the room, followed by Elrond, Bilbo, and Frodo. "As I said before, dimension travel is a very serious matter. If we knew the means by which you came here, we might be able devise a way for you to return home. But as it is, it would take nearly a full year for us to do it safely-and and that would be if we did not have far more pressing matters."

"More pressing than getting us back home?" Peter cried, incredulous.

Elrond nodded. "I understand your reasons for wanting to go back to your own world, Peter. But for now, we do have matters more urgent. In fact, that is why we have come-to summon your to the Council."

"Many of the questions you have will be answered," said Gandalf. "And no doubt new ones will form."

Peter, Logan, and Kurt got up to follow the others. "Does he always talk like that?" Peter asked Frodo.

"Ever since I've known him," said the hobbit.

They walked out of the Last Homely House and out to a patio nearby, the hobbits leading Peter, Kurt, and Logan, with Elrond and Gandalf. Around a short stone pillar were seated a number of men, elves from Rivendell, others that looked liked the elves of Rivendell except for their hair was blond instead of black or chestnut and they wore green rather than brown or red. Peter looked a question at Bilbo. "They are from Mirkwood," the old hobbit explained. "A good distance from here." He indicated a third group. These were a little bigger than the hobbits but squat and bulky, with bushy beards they wore braided down to their waists along with their hair. The grim dour expressions on their faces reminded Peter of Logan. "Dwarfs." continued Bilbo, the his face lit up as he walked over to one who got up from his chair and embraced Bilbo in a tight hug.

"Bilbo!" the dwarf, evidently an old friend of Bilbo's, cried, "it's been too long, far too long."

"Gloin!" answered Bilbo. "How are the others?"

"Good, for the most part," answered Gloin. "Although Balin has left us some time ago with several other dwarfs for the mines of Moria, and we have not heard from him since. But come," he indicated another dwarf who looked like a younger version of him, "meet my son Gimli."

The others seated around the pillar turned their eyes at Kurt; never had they seen anything like him. Some, like the Mirkwood elves looked simply curious; others' looks ranged from wary to downright hostile. Kurt sighed; to the hobbits the fact that he helped to rescue them mattered more than his looks, while the Rivendell elves had been friendly and hospitable. Apparently not everyone on Middle-Earth was as open-minded. Kurt would have been more upset if he hadn't been used to receiving such looks at home.

Everyone stood up as Elrond and Gandalf approached. Bidding that everyone take their seats, Elrond looked out at the Council, and spoke:

"Strangers of distant lands, friends of old, you have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor." The Elven Lord cast his his gaze at the assembly of men, elves, dwarfs, and hobbits-along with two mutants and one mutate. "Middle Earth stands on the brink of destruction. No one can escape it. You will unite, or you will fall." Pausing for a moment to stress the severity of the situation, then went on, "Each race is bound to this one fate, this one doom."

Elrond motioned for Frodo to stand up and come to his side. "Here, my friends, is the hobbit Frodo, son of Drogo, Few have come hither through greater peril or on an errand more urgent."

Elrond then went through all the various introductions for the rest who have not had the chance of meeting. "And these here," he said, indicating the trio who were not from Middle-Earth, "are Logan, Peter Parker, and Kurt Wagner, from the distant land of New York."

"_New York?"_ The man who spoke those words was a tall, confidant man who seemed somewhere from his late twenties to early forties with longish blond hair and a disheveled mustache and goatee. His clothes and armor were worn but of good quality and he carried himself with an aristocratic yet rugged air. "I have never heard of such a land."

"Neither have I, Boromir son of Denethor," answered Elrond. "Now be silent, your time to speak will come." The man Elrond identified as Boromir sat back in his seat, but he continued to glare at the three.

"Bring forth the Ring, Frodo." At Elrond's words, Frodo approached the pillar and took the Ring from his pocket. Placing the small gold circle in the middle of the pedestal, he returned to his seat.

All seated in the circle gazed at the ring. It looked like a plain, simple ordinary ring. _Yet it is so pretty, _Kurt mused to himself.

_Can't believe all that fuss is being made over a little trinket, _thought Logan.

Peter averted his eyes; the pain caused by his spider-sense flaring up even after a few seconds was so great he couldn't bear it.

Elrond went on, explaining about the Rings of Power; about their forging during the second age of Middle-Earth thousands of years ago. He told of how three were given to the leaders of the elves, of seven to the dwarf lords, and nine to great kings of men. Peter perked up with interest; that last sounded like what Gandalf had told him the other day.

Then Elrond spoke of the Master Ring, forged by the Dark Lord Sauron of Mordor. A ring to rule all the others, and their bearers. _One ring to rule them all. One ring to find them. One ring to rule them all and in the darkness bind them._

He told of the Great War against Sauron, of how he ensnared the nine kings the rings had been given to, and set out to conquer Middle Earth. Of the Last Alliance of men and elves had beat back the orc armies of Sauron to Mordor. Sauron himself had emerged from his fortress, and had struck down leaders of the Alliance-including Elindul, King of Gondor.

Elindul's son Isildur had rushed to his father's side. He grabbed Narsil, the sword which fell from Elindul's hands. Sauron stepped on the blade of Narsil, breaking it into pieces.

Undaunted, the Prince of Gondor grabbed the hilt of his father's sword that still had a fragment of blade, and cut at Sauron's hand, severing the Dark Lord's fingers-including the one bearing the Ring.

Without the Ring, Sauron's body disintegrated into ash.

Without their Dark Lord, Sauron's orcs were quickly defeated. Now, Elrond's eyes were downcast, as he told of how he himself had gone with Isildur to destroy the Ring, into the fires of Mount Doom where it had been forged-but Isildur refused.

"Instead, he took the ring for his own," said Elrond sadly. "On his way back to Gondor, to claim his father's throne, they were waylaid by orcs seeking revenge. Isildur put on the Ring to become invisible-but the Ring betrayed him. It came off his fingers just as he jumped into a stream-and the orcs shot him full of arrows. The ring lay there, until it was found by a creature called Gollum."

Bilbo stood up next. He told of how, along with Gloin and several other dwarfs he'd come to the Lonely Mountain, where Gollum dwelled. The old hobbit spoke of his confrontation with Gollum, and the contest of riddles. Peter and Kurt both smiled; many of those riddles where also told on Earth. Finally Bilbo explained how he accidentally discovered the power of the Ring; and used it's invisibility to escape from Gollum.

It seemed Frodo's uncle would go on with his life story, but Elrond cut him off. "That will be all for now, Bilbo," he said gently. "Now is not the time for that. It suffices to know that the Ring passed on to Frodo, your heir. Let him speak now."

Frodo stood and spoke of his dealings with the Ring since it fell into his hands, all the way to his arrival in Rivendell. He told of how he and the other hobbits met Strider in the town called Bree, about their first encounter with the Ringwraiths. He told of their escape and the journey to Weathertop, where they were attacked by the wraiths again-and the sudden appearance of Peter, Kurt, and Logan.

Frodo resumed his seat, and Gandalf took the floor. He told of how he had gone to an old friend and colleague, the wizard Sarumon the White. But Sarumon it seemed had decided to gain the Ring for himself, and had led Gandalf astray. "He kept downplaying the risks of inaction, saying, "'At the worst,' he said, 'our enemy know we have it not, and that it is still lost. But what was lost may yet be found. Fear not! His hope will cheat him. Have I not earnestly studied this matter? Into Anduin the Great it fell; and long ago, while Sauron slept, it was rolled down the river to the sea. There let it lie to the end.'"

Now Gandalf fell silent for a few seconds, then spoke again. "There I was at fault. I was lulled by the words of Sarumon the Wise; but I should have sought the truth sooner, and our peril now would be less."

"We were all at fault," said Elrond in a reassuring tone. "But for your vigilance, the Darkness would already be upon us. But say on."

"From the first my heart misgave me." Gandalf let out a weary sigh. "And against all reason that I knew, I desired to learn how the ring came into the hands of the creature Gollum, and how long he possessed it. So I set a watch for him, guessing he would come out to seek his treasure. He did come, and, but alas, he escaped and was not found. Then, sadly, I let the matter rest, watching and waiting only, as we have too ofton done."

Gandalf continued his tale, saying of how he kept watch over the hobbits' homeland called the Shire, with the help of wandering men call rangers, of whom Strider was one. With the latter's aide, Gandalf finally captured Gollum.

"He is a small thing you say, this 'Gollum?'" Boromir interrupted again. "Small, but great in mischief. What became of him?"

"He is imprisoned, by the elves of Mirkwood," answered Strider. "He has suffered much, and the fear of Sauron is carried deep in his heart. Still, I for one am glad that he is safely lock away; his malice is great and gives him a strength hardly to be believed for one so lean and withered. If he were free, he could work much mischief on us still."

One of the blond elves dressed in green cleared his throat as if to gain attention; Elrond had earlier recognized him as Legolas Greenleaf. "The tidings I was sent to bring must now be told," he said in a voice neither soft nor loud. "They are not good, but only here have I learned how evil they may seem to those here. Gollum has escaped."

Logan rolled his eyes at Legolas' words. _Why do these people have to talk like this?_ the Canadian mutant wondered. _Why can't they just come out and say something?_

The elf went on. "Not through lack of watchfulness, for we guarded him day and night, at Gandalf's bidding, though we wearied of the task. In days of fair weather, we led Gollum through the woods, and there was a high tree standing alone that he liked to climb. Often we let him mount up to the highest branches, though we set a guard at the foot. One day he refused to come down, and the guards had no mind to come up after him; so they sat by the tree far into the night.

"That very night, orcs cam upon us unawares, we drove them off after some time, for they were many and fierce. When the battle was over, we found that Gollum was gone, and his guards were slain or taken. We then realized the attack was made for the purpose of his rescue, and he knew of it beforehand. How that was contrived we cannot guess; but Gollum is cunning, and the spies of the Enemy are many. The Dark things that were driven out the year of the fall of the Dragon have returned, in greater numbers, and Mirkwood is again an evil place, save where our realm is maintained."

"Yet all is not lost," said Elrond, as Legolas took his seat. "For while Gollum has escaped, fate has sent us new allies as well." He nodded where Peter, Kurt, and Logan were sitting.

The three had been silent during the whole time, listening as others told about the Ring. Suddenly a whole lot about the way the Ring affected Peter was clear.

"Wait," said Boromir as he stood up. "Just how did you three strangers happen to appear on Weathertop just as the hobbits were attacked by the Ringwraiths? Answer me that."

Peter got up and, as best he could, told of his background and the two X-men's, and about how they came to Middle-Earth.

A great stir went through the Council; none of them had ever heard of anything like remotely like what Peter had said. "What nonsense is this? Another world? Humans with strange powers and abilities like you describe? Such tales are the lies of Mordor!"

"Speak not of things of which you know nothing, Boromir son of Denethor!" cried Gandalf. "These are no more agents of Sauron than you or I; upon meeting them I used spells to test their truthfulness. None of them gave themselves the lie."

Boromir pointed at Kurt. "You say that, when that one looks like an orc!"

Angrily Logan got out of his chair at hearing his friend insulted. "Listen, bub," and Boromir, a seasoned warrior and veteran of numerous battles nonetheless flinched at the sight of the claws emerging from Logans' hands, "you live in a world full of wizards and elves-,

BAMF! Kurt disappeared from his chair in a cloud of smoke, and reappeared a second later in front of Boromir. "And you find our story hard to believe?"

Boromir sniffed, and grimaced at the brimstone reek surrounding Kurt. "Not only do you look like an orc, you smell like one would too, after a bath."

"Then take that as proof that he is not an orc, Boromir," spoke Gandalf. The wizard gazed out at the entire council. "Who among you, who have dealt with orcs, ever knew them to bathe?" A ring of laughter rippled through the assembly; even Boromir gave a smile at Gandalf's joke. "And remember, Boromir, that while the Dark Lord is evil he is not stupid. Were he to have a spy at this council it would be one whose appearance would not startle us." Boromir nodded and sat down, swayed by Gandalf's logic. Kurt teleported back to his chair.

"Now, if we may return to the topic," said Elrond, "Greenleaf, you spoke of your search for Gollum."

"Yes." Legolas got up again and told of how he and the other elves from Mirkwood had searched for the creature, until they tracked him to Dol Guldor, on the border with Sauron's domain of Mordor. "we dared not go further, for we would have drawn the attention of Sauron."

"So that Sauron guy has Gollum, then?" asked Logan.

"For now it appears so," said Elrond. "Yet Gollum is but one factor in these events. What of others who betrayed us. Gandalf, you spoke of Sarumon."

Gandalf nodded darkly and told of how he had gone to Sarumon's realm of Isengard. There he learned of how his old friend had joined with Sauron, and chose to betray him. The emotion in his voice as he described his imprisonment and torture at the hands of the White Wizard reminded Logan and Kurt of Xavier talking about Magneto.

"In the end, I only escaped certain death with the help of the great eagles," finished Gandalf sadly. "Sarumon hungers for the Ring; he can no longer be counted as our ally."

A long moment of silence followed, broken only when Boromir stood up. Everyone was so focused on the tales they had failed to notice the entire time he had been eying the ring with great interest.

"In a dream," Boromir began, "I saw the eastern sky grow dark, and in the west, a pale light lingered. There was a growing thunder, and out of the light I heard a voice:

_Seek for the sword that was broken,_

_for in Rivendell it dwells,_

_There shall be counsels taken_

_Stronger than Morgul spells,_

_There shall be a token,_

_That doom is near at hand_

_For Isildur's bane shall awaken_

_And Halfling forth shall stand._

"Isildur's bane is found;" said Boromir, his hand subconsciously reaching for the Ring. "Isildur's bane is found-."

"NO!" Peter's spider-sense screamed to life and, quick as lightning, he leaped from his chair and grabbed Boromir by the wrists. Boromir tried to wrest free but he couldn't; he'd taken Peter for a mere slip of a youth. But apparently he had the strength of an orc!

"_**Ash nasg durbatulak ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulik, agh bursum-isi krimpatul!"**_

Now all the eyes in the Council were turned to Gandalf. He had spoken those words in a deep and harsh tone; the earth below began to shake and the sky above began to darken. Everyone reached for their weapons; Logan again unleashed his claws.

And strangely, Peter let go of Boromir. The man from Gondor just stood there, his eyes fixated on the wizard. When at last Gandalf ended the chant, the sun returned and the ground below steadied.

"Never before," said Elrond, "has anyone dared to utter that tongue here in Rivendell, Gandalf the Gray."

Gandalf looked shaken and weak, but he showed no sign of regret. "I do not ask for your pardon, master Elrond," he said between forced breathes. "For the black speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of Middle-Earth. The Ring is altogether evil!"

Now Gandalf's eyes gazed into Boromir's. "Peter did right in stopping you from grabbing the Ring; he has an uncanny ability to sense danger. If only Isildur had such a talent;we should not be here today!"

"It is a gift!" cried Boromir. "A gift to the foes of Mordor! Why not use this Ring." Now Boromir looked out at everyone. "Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, held back the orcs of Mordor, by the blood and sweat of our people while your lands were kept safe." Boromir turned to Peter. "Explain to me, boy," the word stung, Boromir seemed only a few years older than Peter, "how you sense danger from the Ring."

"I can't explain it," Peter said. "I just-get this feeling, whenever danger approaches me. And when I look at that ring," he pointed at the pillar, still careful not to turn his eyes that way, "it goes off like it never has before. I can't even look at it for more than a few seconds, the pain in my head is so intense."

"Because the Ring gives you a headache, you say we should not use it?" Boromir gave a sharp chuckle. "Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy!" he cried to all those who were assembled. "Let us use it against him!"

"Peter is right." Now Strider stood up again. "You cannot wield the Ring, Boromir. None of us can. It belongs to Sauron, and answers to him alone. It has no other master!"

Boromir stared at Isildur with aristocratic contempt. "And what would you, a mere ranger, know of such things?"

"This is no mere ranger!" Legolas got up from his seat and stood in front of Boromir. "This is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and Isildur's heir. You owe him your allegiance."

Now everyone looked at Legolas and at Aragorn. Frodo, Kurt, Peter and Logan glanced at each other in surprise. Strider was descended from a king?

"He IS Aragron, son of Arathorn," said Elrond, conforming Legolas's words. Reluctantly, as if he knew he was throwing oil onto a fire, the Elf Lord went on, "He is descended from many fathers from Isildur,Elindil's son, of Minas Ithil. He is chief of the Dunedain to the North of the line of Numinor of old, and there are few of that line left.

"Aragorn?" Boromir stepped up to Strider, or rather Aragorn, in a curious but skeptical manner. "You truly are Isildur's heir?"

"And heir to the throne of Gondor," Legolas added for good measure.

Strider lifted his hand to Legolas, and said something in the elves' language. Reluctantly, the elf from Mirkwood sat down.

Boromir stared at Aragorn for a minute, then back at Legolas. "Gondor has no king," he said tonelessly. "Gondor needs no king."

Boromir went back to his seat, and Peter to his. "Aragorn is right," said Gandalf. "We cannot use the Ring of Power, for there in lies the destruction of all."

"You have but one choice," Elrond said grimly. "The Ring must be destroyed."

"Well why didn't you say so?" Logan got up from his chair and unleashed the claws on his hands. He was a man of action; sitting in on this meeting had been making him restless and bored.

He ran over to the tablet and brought his claws down on the Ring with all his might. For nearly a full minute, everyone felt the shocks as Logan's claws struck at the Ring and sliced of pieces of the pillar. Yet as he stood back and took a breath, everyone could see while the adamantium claws cut through marble, the Ring wasn't even nicked.

"The Ring cannot be destroyed by any art we he possess, Logan," said Elrond. "It was made in the fires of Mount Doom, and only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor, and cast into the fiery chasm from which it was forged." He gazed out, his gray eyes boring into the entire assembly. "One of you must do this."

"That is folly!" cried Boromir. "One does not simply walk into Mordor. It's black gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash. The very air you breath is a poisonous fume."

"Sounds a lot like New Jersey," Logan muttered under his breath.

"Have you not heard what Elrond said?" cried Legolas. "The Ring must be destroyed!"

"And I suppose you think you should be the one to do it!" roared Gimli.

"And if we fail, what then?" said Boromir. "What happened when Sauron takes back what is his?"

"I will die before I see the Ring in the hands of an elf!" Gimli and all the other dwarfs glared at the elves, the old feud between the two races evident between in their expressions. "Never trust an elf!"

At that point, nearly everyone was getting up and shouting at someone-except for the three who were not from Middle Earth. Peter had closed his eyes, to avoid looking at the ring. "Strange, is it not," said Kurt to Logan in German, "that they fight like this over something so small?"

Logan grunted. He would have found it all hard to believe, if he hadn't encountered similar stuff back home-and the obvious effect the Ring was having on Peter. "I'd say that Ring is causing this fight," he answered in Kurt's native language.

Kurt looked at the men, elves and dwarfs bickering, then back at the Ring. It looked so ordinary-and so pretty and shiny. Suddenly he closed his eyes and crossed himself _"Father, lead me not into temptation,"_ he whispered in prayer.

Frodo was not paying any attention at all to the others; his eyes were fixated on the ring. Logan was right; the Ring was causing these normally peaceful folk to go at each others throats. He knew what had to be done.

"I will take the ring!" he shouted.

Gandalf's face fell; he was the first to hear Frodo speak. The young hobbit shouted again, and the shouts of the angry council died away.

"I will take the Ring," Frodo said for a third time. "Although... I do not know the way."

A silence fell through the council as they processed what Frodo said. Gandalf looked down on the hobbit, concern and caring in his ancient eyes. "I will help you bear this burden Frodo," he said, "as long as it is yours to bear."

Aragorn spoke next. "By my life or my death, that I can protect you I will." He moved to Frodo and knelt to the hobbit. "You have my sword."

"And you have my bow," intoned Legolas.

"And my ax," added Gimli.

Now Kurt teleported out of his seat, and in front of Elrond. "As much as I vish to return to my home," he said, "I must repay you for the hospitality you have shown. If you vill have me," he said to Aragorn, "I vill join you."

"And me to," put in Logan. While he wouldn't admit it the little guys had grown on him-and it sounded as if there there would be some good fights in the journey ahead.

Peter just looked at the ground. This wasn't their world, this wasn't their fight. He had Mary Jane and Aunt May back home, who he longed to go back to. They helped the Frodo get to Rivendell safely with the Ring. Why should they get involved?

_Why should I get involved?_

The last time he'd had that thought was at the wrestling center, when he'd let that thief get away.

And his Uncle Ben paid the price.

Gandalf had been right; there _were _matters more pressing than returning home for these people. Their entire world was at stake. It may not be his world, but it was a world full of people who would suffer needlessly if those had the power did nothing to act.

"And I'll be coming as well," he said flatly.

"You carry the fate of us all, little one." Boromir stepped toward Frodo, his gaze fixing on the little hobbit. "If this is indeed the will of the council, Gondor will see it done."

"I'm coming too!" Everyone looked to see Samwise Gamgee appear from behind a hedge and take a stand behind Frodo, and crossed his arms. "Mister Frodo isn't going anywhere without me!"

"No indeed." Sarcasm laced Elrond's words, yet he couldn't hide his amusement at the gardener. "Indeed, it is impossible to separate you two, even thou he is summoned to a council and you are not."

"And we're coming too!" Merry and Pippin lept out of an archway their places beside Frodo; Elrond didn't know wherever to be impressed or amused by the loyalty and antics of Frodo's friends. "We'll come even if you chain us up and put us in a sack!" finished Merry.

"Besides," said Pippin, "you'll need people of intelligence on this mission-quest-thing!"

"Well that rules you out Pip," Merry said flatly.

Elrond looked at them all. The fate of Middle-Earth would rest on the shoulders of four hobbits, two men, a wizard, an elf, a dwarf, and three strangers from another world. "Twelve companions," he said. "So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring."

The twelve all looked at each other. "So, began Pippin, "where are we going?"

* * *

As the Council was broken up, Elladan and Elrohir walked off together. They had been silent during the whole time, and behaved themselves accordingly. "So that man can sense when somethings about to happen to him, can he?" murmured Elladan. "No wonder none of our tricks worked."

"Most unfair," agreed Elrohir.

"Maybe if we can't get at him directly," said the older twin, "then we'll have to go indirectly. Think of some way around the strange ability of his."

"I'm sure you two may be able to think of a way to bring it off." The twins stopped, turned around, and saw Elrond standing right behind them. "I just wanted to tell you that, until the Fellowship departs, you both will be on kitchen duty."

"But Father!" protested Elladan. "We haven't don anything...yet."

"That's why I'm having you work the kitchens." Now Elrond gave a very wide grin. Alarm filled the twins; whenever their father smiled like that the aftermath was-unpleasant. "To make sure you two don't get the chance. I do NOT want a repeat of what you did during the first time the senior Mr Baggins was here, with Thorin and Company."

End of chapter

Don't ask me what Elrond's sons did during the events of THE HOBBIT. The reason is-I don't know! Just use your imagination.

Hopefully I will have the next chapter up before Thanksgiving. Yes, I will be following Tolkien's basic plotline. Peter and Kurt's particular talents will be most helpful when the Fellowship goes through the mines of Moria.

*Given the elves' longevity and their low rate of reproduction neither would be as onerous as it would be for a human-although it wouldn't be pleasant either!

**In case anyone is wondering, Elrond's twin sons are _not_ my original characters; they are mentioned in the original novels. Their individual personalities aren't well described, so I thought it would be fun if, unlike their somber father, they were insufferable pranksters.


	3. Chapter 3

I don't own Spider Man, Wolverine, Nightcrawler, or Lord of the Rings. They both belong to people who have way more money than I ever will, so if you are reading this don't bother trying to sue me. You'll just waste your money. Sue someone who's got loads of it instead.

CHAPTER THREE

The band that Elrond dubbed the Fellowship of the Ring would not depart from Rivendell for several weeks. Strider, or rather Aragorn, took several of his fellow rangers and elven scouts to search the forests for the Ringwraiths. He also brought along Logan and Peter; the former had demonstrated his formidable tracking skills and with the latter's ability to sense danger, soon they were able to account for eight of the unearthly creatures. But the ninth, the leader of the Nazgul, remained undetected, and that unsettled Aragorn.

Kurt remained in Rivendell, helping to prepare for the journey up ahead. He helped Samwise take care of Bill, the pony that would be carrying most of their supplies. The German mutant had helped care for horses and other animals in the circus he grew up in, so it wasn't unfamiliar. He could tell that the poor animal had been badly abused; Sam told him of how they got the pony shortly before they came to Weathertop. But under the care of Sam and Kurt and the elven stable hands the little equine thrived and grew strong; he reminded Kurt of one pony a midget bareback rider used.

Kurt also studied maps to understand the layout of the land he'd be traveling. Bilbo Baggins helped him there; the old hobbit had an ample collection of maps and even made several copies for the Fellowship to take along. He also helped Kurt learn much of the history of what Elrond told at the council.

It was one evening, right after studying with Bilbo, that Kurt was gazing at a mural describing the battle where the being Sauron was defeated. The scenes reminded Kurt of the Book of Revelation, beautiful and horrifying. He wanted to turn away, yet he could not, so captivating were the images painted on the wall.

"Impressive, are they not?" Kurt turned, and stiffened at the sight of Boromir. The still remembered the man's words to him at the council. "Scholars used the chronicles of these events to teach me my letters.

Kurt said nothing. "Kurt-that's your name, isn't it?" Seeing him nod, Boromir went on, "Kurt, I must say-for what I said at the council, I wish to apologize. I spoke rashly." Boromir stepped back looked at Kurt. "And now that I have a better look at you, you don't look like an orc-exactly."

"I'm human, just as you are," said Kurt. "But I'm-different." As if to emphasize his point, he teleported behind Boromir, then to his side, then back in front of him.

"That's an amazing gift you have," Boromir said. "If we had men of your talent, a dozen hundred or so-oh, how we would make Mordor tremble!"

"At least you call it a talent." Kurt reached into his pocket, and gripped the rosary he always carried with him. "There are some who would call it a curse. And one time-I thought so too."

Boromir sighed. "Life must have been-hard for you."

"At times," Kurt admitted. "Yet in many ways I was fortunate too. I grew up in a circus, where strange looking people are expected." Boromir nodded; circuses on Middle Earth frequently had unusual looking people traveling with them. "And I learned to be thankful that, while I may look strange, at least I was strong and healthy. I've known many others who suffered from deformities much worse. And I've met people who are able to see beyond how I look. They are my friends-and my family."

Boromir gave out his hand. "Again Kurt, I ask-no I beg-will you accept my apology. We are to be traveling together; it is best there be no bad blood between us."

Kurt reached and took Boromir's five-fingered hand in his own three fingered one. "Gladly." He looked into Boromir's face, and he felt this man was sincere.

There was a small stable near the mural wall, on which lay the fragments of a broken sword. "Narsil," Boromir said. "The sword with which Isildur cut Sauron's hand."

Kurt picked up the hilt, which still had a long piece of blade attached. "Still sharp?" he asked. "After all this time?"

Boromir nodded. "It was truly a well made sword."

Kurt set the sword hilt down. "I know so little of this vorld. Tell me something of your own home."

Boromir did, beginning with his home city of Minis Tirith, the capitol of Gondor. "It sounds beautiful," said Kurt.

"Thank you."

"But your father, you said, is the Steward of the kingdom. Vhat does that mean?"

"When Isildur failed to return, his nephew Meneldil became king of Gondor." Boromir then told how Meneldil's line ended when his descendant King Eanur and his sons were killed in battle against Mordor, which while reduced to a shadow of it's former self after Sauron's destruction was still a major threat. "His chief adviser,Mardil, assumed rule over the kingdom-and so it has passed down to my father Denethor." Kurt could hear understandable pride in Boromir's voice.

"And none since assumed kingship himself, instead?" Kurt asked. "In most kingdoms in my world, that would certainly be the case."

"Such would also be the case here in Middle-Earth, but no, they have not." Now Boromir looked forlorn. "I have ofton thought my family should, since we have assumed all the duties of the king except in name. But all of them, down to my father, have refused."

Kurt was certainly impressed. The men of Boromir's family, he thought, must be exceptionally honorable.

Yet Kurt remembered Boromir's face as he had looked at the Ring, and how he himself had felt when he looked at it. Kurt crossed himself, and offered a silent prayer that God would keep the Ring from tempting him. And Boromir.

* * *

Aragorn returned with Peter and Logan, and joined in helping with the preparations. As the weeks went by, the Fellowship practiced for the worst, and Peter, Logan, and Kurt manged to show the full range of their powers. Logan's claws and what he could do with them especially impressed the dwarfs, and Kurt quickly learned how to fight with an elvish style sword that seemed like a cross between a katana and a rapier.

On the practice fields outside of Rivendell, Peter demonstrated his web-shooters to the new arrivals. "Interesting toys," muttered Gimli, he had be watching Peter practice. "Although I fail to see how much use they'll be if we get attacked."

Suddenly the dwarf found himself buried up to his neck in a massive layer of webbing. He twisted and turned, but was totally unable to get free.

Legolas had also been watching. "Sometimes incapacitating a foe can be just as useful, or even more, than killing him."

"Don't worry too much," said Peter. "The stuff dissolves fairly quick-about half an hour, I'd say."

Gimli began to sweat; he'd had three mugs of wine a short while ago-and he didn't think he could hold it in that long.

As if sensing Gimli's distress, Legolas drew one of the short curved swords he carried attached to his arrow quiver. Grunting, the elf manged to cut the dwarf out of his web casing. But the webbing was still in his beard and hair." "Looks like you'll still have to wait for that to dissolve," said Peter. Either that or cut you hair and shave your beard."

Gimli looked at Peter in horror, as if he'd proposed doing something obscene and unspeakable. Scowling for a minute, he walked off.

"Dwarf's beards and the length of their hair are a major source of pride to them," said Legolas. "You might have well as suggested he cut off his privates."

"Yeah, I kind of figured."

Legolas looked at Peter thoughtfully. "Gimli did have a point though. Those webs are quite amazing. But, going one on one against the kind of creatures in Mordor-well, you may need more than that."

"I also have my fists."

"Yes, you are quite strong; far stronger than one might suspect. But orcs are powerful creatures too; a simple punch won't be enough to take care of one."

"What do you suggest?"

Your friend Logan has his claws, and Kurt seems quite good with a sword-he is already learning to use one of our kind quite well."

"I don't use blades. Not my style." Peter hated killing people, human and otherwise. Those few times he had done it he was certain the person deserved it, but it made him no less easy about it. Yet he also realized on this journey it was all too likely he'd have to.

"I prefer the bow myself," said Legolas. Peter had seen him at the archery range; the elf could put Hawkeye to shame. And while he may not have been able to _run_ as fast as Quicksilver or Northstar, he could match the mutant speedsters in the reflex department-he could shoot arrows with machine-gun rapidity and precision accuracy. "Yet I may run out of arrows or have time to draw one. That's why I carry these." He held up the short sword in his right hand and drew the other with his left. Peter normally wasn't interested in swords or knives, but somehow these caught his attention. They were slightly curved, almost like a Japanese sword, and had a beautifully shaped curved grip. *"In our language we call these 'spider-fangs.' I think they may suit you quite well."

* * *

By some strange coincidence the Fellowship would leave Rivendell on December 25. Christmas day back home. And on Middle Earth it was a time for great merrymaking and feasting as well; they called the celebration _Yule._

The night before departure Elrond held an enormous feast. There wasn't any turkey or ham, since the former didn't seem to exist in Middle-Earth and elves didn't eat pork. They didn't keep any domestic animals other than horses, dogs, and cats, and whatever meat they ate was wild game. So there was plenty of venison, rabbit, quail, duck, and partridges. There was also abundant corn, vegetables, grapes, apples, and wine. And too Logan's delight, the dwarfs had brought with them from their homes in the mountains to the east five barrels of excellent beer.

Peter went outside. Strange; it was December yet it felt more like fall; being from New York City Peter had never seen a winter without snow.

He sat clinging on the side of Elrond's home; the elves had gotten used to the sight of him sticking to the wall as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

It would be Christmas Eve back home. Or maybe it wouldn't; Peter knew from previous experience how screwy different dimensions could be with time. Still he missed home. He missed Mary Jane and Aunt May. He'd spent the past several weeks buried in the preparation for this journey they would be undertaking to that Mordor place, so he wouldn't have to think about them. But now though, he just couldn't help it.

All around him he saw elves dancing and singing; the few humans and dwarfs joining in. A little across from the Center of Rivendell, Logan was having a drinking contest. He'd already drunk Boromir, Gimli, his father Gloin, three other dwarfs, two elves, and six of Boromir's retainers under the table. One at a time.

And he wasn't even the slightest bit intoxicated.

Kurt was standing a short distance away, drinking a beer himself. This dwarf beer was very good; it made the best German beer taste like that Budweiser or Coors swill. He smiled as Logan called for his next challenger; the Canadian's healing factor allowed hims to drink enough to kill a horse.

Seeing people happy and merry all round can have two different effects on a depressed person-it can cheer him up or make him even more depressed. For Peter it was the latter. Especially seeing the elven couples all around him laughing and holdin each other affectionately, only made him miss his wife even more.

He crawled away from the sight of the revelers, hoping to be alone. But as he was right behind the building Aragorn and Elrond's daughter Arwen. They were talking to each other. Not wanting them to see him, he crawled up to the roof and hid carefully where he was sure they couldn't see him.

They were discussing something, of very deep importance apparently, although they were to far down and talking to low for Peter to hear. At one point Arwen grabbed Aragorn by his forearms and kissed him in the mouth. Aragorn kissed her back-then pushed her away.

"Do you always spy on people like that?" Peter suddenly turned around and saw Gandalf standing on the roof right behind him. **

"No, I, uh, just happened to stumble upon them," Peter stammered.

"Well, that is true-although you certainly stayed to watch them instead of walking away and respecting their privacy."

Peter felt like a little boy caught doing something he shouldn't have. "I had no idea that they were involved with each other."

"Aye. Although, it is not an easy thing, love between a human and an elf."

"Why?" Peter asked suddenly curious. "Is there some sort of taboo against it?"

"Yes-but not for the reasons that you may be thinking. Peter, elves are practically immortal-oh they can be killed or drown or die in a fire or by accident. But they never catch disease and they don't age-well, not after they reach maturity. At any rate, the only thing they can die of, other than what I've just mentioned, is a broken heart."

"A broken heart? That can really kill them?"

"Yes. Elven love is intense, very intense Peter." Gandalf's brows furrowed; the wizard reminded Peter of his uncle Ben trying to explain something. "When elves give their heart to someone, they give it fully. If Arwen were to give herself to Aragorn, she would give up her immortality-and Aragorn does not want that; so great does he love her."

"Oh." Peter looked back down. Arwen was gone; Aragron was standing alone and even from this distance, he could see the anguish on his face. Peter had spent the last several minutes worried about his family; now he felt sympathy for Aragorn and hoped nothing similar would split him and Mary-Jane.

* * *

The Fellowship of the Ring awoke at the crack of dawn the next day and assembled before the house of Elrond. Boromir and Gimli were still fighting the last vestiges of the hangovers they'd gotten from the night before and scowled at Logan, who had drunk way more than the two of them put together. He looked the very picture of health.

The other members of the Fellowship had either drunk very little or not at all. All of them were dressed in cloaks and garments lined with fur to protect them from the cold of the mountains they would all be traveling through. Peter's and Kurt's were in colors similar to their usual costumes; Peter also had his gloves and his Spider-Man mask was attached to his tunic where he could easily pull it on. He knew he had no secret identity to protect here on Middle Earth but somehow if he had to fight he'd feel more comfortable with it on.

In addition to his web-shooters Peter wore criss-crossed bandoleers of freshly made web cartridges and strapped to each thigh was a spider-fang short sword like the ones Legolas carried. He hoped he wouldn't need them, but he'd practiced with them every day since the elf had demonstrated them to him. Kurt had two of the larger yet similar style of swords on his back and both he and Peter wore a chain mail shirt underneath their Tunics. Legolas of course carried his swords and bow and arrows; Gimli a long handled ax that could double as a walking staff. Aragorn had his bow and arrow and sword; Boromir a similar sword and shield. Gandalf likewise carried a sword in the folds of his robes and a crooked wooden staff. The hobbits each carried a long dagger that would do as a short sword for them.

The community of Rivendell and their guests had gathered to bid them farewell. There was none of the mirth or merrymaking they'd shown the night before, only worry, for they all knew the fate of Middle Earth rested on the shoulders of Frodo and this mismatched band of individuals who sworn they would protect him.

Elrond and Arwen, and the twins Elladan and Elrohir, stepped down the white stone stairs and stood before the Fellowship. Arwen's eyes were brimming with tears as she looked at Aragorn, And Peter thought he saw sorrow in the ranger's too. Even Elrond's sons looked somber, and anyone who knew them might have been wondering if the world was about to end.

Elrond spoke up. "The Ring-Bearer is setting out on the quest to Mount Doom," and their was no mistaking the concern in the Elf-Lord's voice. "On him alone is any charge laid: neither to cast away the Ring or to deliver it to any servant of the Enemy, or even to handle it, save Member of the Company or of the Council, and only then at the gravest need. For you who go with him, no oath or bond is laid to go any further than you will. Farewell. Hold to your purpose, and may the blessings of elves, and men, and all free folk go with you. May the stars shine upon your faces."

Aragorn, Legolas, and Gandalf all put their hands over their chests and bowed to Elrond. "The Fellowship awaits the Ring-Bearer," stated Gandalf.

Frodo cast one last look at Rivendell, wondering if he would ever see this place, or his beloved Uncle Bilbo again. Peter saw him looking at the old hobbit, and he felt a fresh pain at the memory of his own Uncle Ben.

Reluctantly, Frodo turned and led the Fellowship out of Rivendell, when something occurred to him. "Mordor Gandalf?" he asked. "Is it right or left?"

"Left," said the wizard.

End of Chapter 3

*I don't know the elvish words for the term.

**If you are wondering why Peter's spider-sense doesn't go off when Gandalf sneaks up on him-well, it warns him of _danger,_ and Gandalf doesn't mean him any harm.


End file.
